Legacy
by Midnight's Raven
Summary: Batman has a legacy... Warning: This is a death fic.


Everyone knew it was going to happen. He'd been told time and time again that it was inevitable. Hell, even **he'd **said it on numerous occasions. But Superman had refused to believe it.

Yet here he was.

This would be the first year without Batman. It was he first day of the year, a day that meant a new beginning to most people. But to Clark, it felt like the end. The end of everything he'd ever known.

Sitting on the roof of Wayne Manor, the cold of the January morning didn't even register to the Kryptonian. Light snow fell all around him, but he didn't feel the chill in the air. He didn't feel anything. Just an overwhelming emptiness deep in his heart.

He tried to fight the torturous cycle going on in his brain, to turn off the endless movie of that night months ago, but nothing he did could stop the horrific nightmare. Clark tried to hold in a sob of despair as the memory cycled through his brain again.

The call had come in at about 10pm, just as Clark was sitting down to watch a movie with Lois. He remembered sighing in frustration when his JLA communicator went off in his ear.

"You can ignore it," Lois said, glancing up at his face from within his arms, knowing from his shift in posture what it was.

"They wouldn't call unless they absolutely needed me," Clark sighed. "I'm last on call tonight.

"Go ahead," he said, seemingly into thin air.

"Superman," Nightwing's voice sounded in his ear.

Since joining the JLA the year before, Nightwing had proven himself time and time again that he belonged among the world's greatest heroes. He was a natural leader, a natural teammate, and soon became Superman's right hand man when it came to the League. His natural talent and confidence ranked him as one of the most respected and trusted League members.

But none of that confidence was evident in his voice. In fact, his voice shook, and that startled Clark. He sat up straight, forgetting about the movie, and Lois gave him a curious look.

"What is it, Nightwing?"

"It's Batman." He paused when his voice cracked. "It's bad."

Clark felt his heart skip a beat. "How bad?"

"Bad," was Nightwing's quiet answer. "How soon can you get to the cave?"

"I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Hurry," Nightwing said before cutting off the transmission.

Clark jumped up, muttering a quick apology to Lois as he changed into his "work" clothes faster than she could see. He stopped only for a second at her worried expression.

"It's Bruce," he explained, heading to the window.

She needed no further explanation. "Go."

Superman took off, not caring about controlling the sonic boom as he approached the speed of sound. The seconds ticked by, and as Superman approached his top speed, he cursed himself for not being faster. He was the second fastest man alive, only second to the Flash, and it still wasn't fast enough.

Gotham came into view and he flew past the city to the outskirts that Wayne Manor occupied. He entered the cave under the cliff near the Manor that Bruce used as the entrance for the Bat-sub.

Superman surfaced inside the cave and ran as fast as he could to the main cavern. He stopped cold when he saw Nightwing sitting hunched over with his face in his hands. Next to him, Bruce was lying in a medical bed, but none of the instruments seemed to be working. There was no mechanical beeping to apprise Superman of his condition. The closer he got to the bed, the faster Clark's heart raced. He tried to block out the thumping in his chest, but he couldn't hear Bruce's heart over the sound of his own.

"Dick?" he finally managed to choke out.

The younger man sat up as if started and the look on his face confirmed Clark's worst fear. Dick had his mask in his hands, and he crushed it in his tight grip. His eyes were bloodshot, and tears were streaming down his face.

Dick stood from the chair, but he couldn't force his legs to move towards Clark.

"Clark," he whispered. "I... he..." Dick paused as words seemed to fail him.

Clark couldn't move or think. His mind was blanked and his body refused to approach the bed, knowing it would only confirm what he was dreading. After several seconds of tense silence, Clark forced his body to move, taking small, slow steps towards the bed. As much as he wanted to look away, Clark couldn't take his eyes from Bruce's still form.

Clark's brain finally started registering things he should have noticed when he first entered the cave. The reason the machines were silent was because they had been disconnected from Bruce. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should. The reason he couldn't hear Bruce's heartbeat was because there wasn't one to be heard.

Clark finally reached Bruce's side, and he held a shaky hand out toward Bruce. He paused briefly before touching the back of his hand to Bruce's cheek. Clark's body was always warmer than most humans because of his absorption of sunlight, but he could tell Bruce's skin was already cool.

"He... he tried to hang on," Dick said gently, and Clark could hear the tears in his voice. He knew the boy was losing his battle with the overwhelming grief that threatened to overtake him. "He tried to hang on until you got here."

Clark's heart wrenched and his stomach lurched at Dick's words. Why hadn't he been faster? If only he'd gotten there more quickly.

"He wanted me to give you this," Dick told him, holding out a CD to Clark.

Clark realized his hand hadn't left his friend's rapidly cooling cheek, so he pulled it away to take the CD from Dick. He couldn't speak, unsure of what to say. His brain couldn't comprehend that Bruce could be gone despite the fact his broken and battered body laid only inches away.

"How?" Clark choked out.

"I don't know," Dick admitted, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. "He, uh, he got word of a kiddie porn ring in Gotham and had been investigating for weeks, but he never really kept me in the loop."

Dick paused to wipe away tears that strayed down his cheeks. Clark could see the torturous look in his eyes, and the Kryptonian knew Dick was blaming himself for not being aware of Bruce's investigations.

"Tim called me two hours ago when Bruce dropped off the radar. He knew something was wrong, so I went to find him.

"I found him-" Dick hiccupped as he suppressed a sob rising in his throat. "I found him like this at the Gotham Docks. He intercepted a bunch of kids being brought in from Russia...

"He saved those kids. I found them in a nearby w-warehouse. But the guys were organized... It went higher than Bruce thought... the Russian mobs... They... they..."

Dick struggled to find the words, but the grief was too much and his legs buckled. Clark caught him by the shoulders before the boy could crumple to the ground.

"Look what they did to him!" Dick cried, but then his voice grew quiet. "I tried to save him... I tried... but I wasn't good enough."

Clark lowered Dick to the floor, hugging him, wishing he could somehow ease his pain. "You did everything you could, Dick. Now it's my turn."

Clark released Dick and rose from the floor, approaching Bruce's body. He hoisted Bruce's body into his arms, and he was disturbed by the way his body felt shattered and the placid color of his skin.

Before Dick could say anything, he took off through the sky access Batman used for his Bat-plane. He flew as fast as he could north. Miles flew by in seconds, but Clark was only focused on his destination. The Fortress of Solitude came into view quickly, and Clark flew down into the center of his isolated piece of his homeworld.

He approached the crystals that held the most advanced technology known to man.

"Welcome, Kal-El," the voice of his Kryptonian father greeted him, recognizing his presence.

Clark carefully laid Bruce's body on a table, being as gentle as he could.

"I need you to heal him," Clark told the crystals surrounding him.

There was a brief pause before his father's voice spoke again.

"We cannot heal him. We cannot bring back the dead."

"I said heal him!" Clark shouted, his enraged words echoing off the crystal walls.

He waited silently, listening to his anger resonate through the halls of the fortress. Several seconds of silence followed his outburst, and as they ticked by, an overwhelming sense of dread filled his heart.

"There are limits to even our technology, Kal-El," his father's voice said.

Clark couldn't hold out any longer, and his legs buckled, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. Tears streamed down his face freely, and he could no longer hold back the grief from bubbling to the surface. His body was wracked with sobs of defeat, unable to control the flood of emotion. He'd failed Bruce. He hadn't gotten there in time to help him. If only he'd been faster...

For several minutes, Clark couldn't move from the floor, nor did he want to. His mind was reeling, unable to accept the fact that Bruce could be gone. He thought long and hard, wondering if there was a way he could save him... go back in time... do something. Anything.

Glancing down at his hand, he remembered the disc Dick had given him. He summoned all of his will power to get up from the floor and move towards the large computer at the center of the Fortress. It was something Bruce had insisted on installing. He'd worked for months to integrate the Kryptonian technology with the most advanced computers Bruce could get his hands on.

It had taken months to get the two technologies to work together, but Bruce had been determined. And that determination had paid off. Until now...

Clark sat at the terminal, flipping the disc over in his hand. Bruce had left a message for him in case this happened, but he felt watching it would bring finality to Bruce's death, and he wasn't sure he was ready for it. He found an internal battle for several minutes, but his respect for Bruce won out. If Bruce felt it necessary to leave him a message, he had to respect him enough to watch it.

Clark slid the disc into the computer and he wasn't surprised that the computer instantly recognized it and began running the file on the disc.

The Kryptonian expected Batman's image to fill the screen, but was surprised when an unmasked Bruce appeared on the monitor.

"Hello Clark," the image said, and Clark found himself morbidly glancing at Bruce's still form before looking back at the screen, as if to make sure the body lying nearby was really his friend.

"If you're watching this, then I'm dead."

The left side of Bruce's mouth turned slightly upwards into a smirk, and he folded his hands on the desk in front of him.

"I know that sounds cliché, but there seemed to be no other way to start the message. And I know always think my excessive preparations for worst case scenarios are paranoid and unnecessary, but this time I needed to do this. I need you to listen carefully and do something for me."

Clark sat up straighter as Bruce's smirk faded and his face grew serious.

"I need you to accept the fact that I'm dead. I do not want you doing something foolish like traveling back in time to save me or something of that nature. I'm human, Clark. Humans die. And you know just as well as I do that there can be dire consequences when messing with time."

Clark wiped a stray tear from his eye that was blurring Bruce's face in front of him.

"I'll live on in other ways. I have a legacy. Which brings me to the real reason for making this message."

Bruce leaned into the camera, causing his image to nearly fill the screen.

"Take care of them for me, Clark. Dick and Tim are going to need someone to turn to in tough times, and I want that person to be you.

"Dick's become his own man now, and I have every confidence he'll get through this on his own. He's turned out better than I could have ever dreamed, but don't let him bury things like I did. Don't let him turn out like me. He has a vitality to him that I could never have, and I don't want him to lose that."

Clark couldn't stop the fresh tears from forming in his eyes as Bruce opened up to him. He knew it probably took Bruce a lot of strength to make this recording, but Clark was glad he did.

"Tim's been through a lot in the last few years, but he's stronger than most people give him credit for. He'll need someone to turn to for guidance, and I need you to be there for him. He's a great kid, and a damn fine crime fighter."

Bruce leaned back in his chair with a slight smile on his lips. "Take care of them for me, Clark. And take care of yourself. You've always been there for me, even when I'm not the easiest person to be around. Thanks for being a great friend.

"I know I never said it, but I have nothing but the greatest respect for you. You showed me that justice doesn't always have to be dark. You saved me from myself more times than I can count, and I just wanted to say thank you. Take care of yourself, my friend."

And with that, the screen went blank, but Clark couldn't see the screen through the tears that filled his eyes. He didn't bother to brush them away as Bruce's speech replayed through his mind.

Clark removed the disc from the computer and pocketed it, making sure to take extra care to preserve it. He was going to make sure he held onto that disc forever. If he couldn't save Bruce, he could at least hold on to a piece of him. He made his way back over the Bruce's still form and scooped him up into his arms. As he flew back to Gotham, Clark vowed he would do everything in his power to honor his friend's request.

The next few weeks blurred by in a flurry of emotion and chaos. Dick had been apprised of contingency plans to put into place if this sort of thing happened, and he followed through with surprising strength. Bruce's death was explained by an accident while visiting a hunger stricken country in Africa, a tragic accident while trying to help those in need.

Clark smiled slightly as he read the article on the front page of the Daily Planet with Lois's byline. Bruce would probably be angry that they'd made his death so dramatic, but the man deserved nothing less. If they couldn't tell the world the good he'd done as Batman, they could at least tell the world of some of the lesser known good deeds Bruce Wayne had accomplished.

The funeral service had been intimate, per Bruce's request, and only the closest friends and family were in attendance.

The press was in a frenzy around the Manor for several weeks as the details of Bruce's will were worked out. As expected, Dick was named his heir and took over control of Wayne Enterprises, as well as control of the massive Wayne fortune. Bruce had left Tim a large trust fund, and unknown to most, he'd given a sizable fortune to the Gordon family as well.

At first, Jim Gordon had been confused by the gift, but after having a long talk with Barbara, he finally understood.

After several weeks, life in Gotham returned to normal, except one figure was noticeably missing. Robin and Nightwing patrolled the streets regularly, and even Superman was seen several times in the city, but it wasn't long before people noticed the absence of Batman. Questions were raised if the Dark Knight would ever return, if he was dead, if he'd abandoned the city, but soon the questions died after going unanswered.

And now here it was, the beginning of a new year, and Batman's presence was still sorely missed.

Had Clark been paying attention, he would have heard the set of footsteps approaching from behind him. He also would have heard the conversation his arrival had sparked inside the massive home. But all of the turmoil in his mind blocked out everything around him.

"Ahem," a voice cleared behind him, and Clark started, surprised by another presence on the roof.

"Mind if I join you?"

Clark turned his head just enough for a figure to appear in his peripheral vision. Dick Grayson was balancing himself along the precarious slope of the manor's roof with a skill Clark had seen many times before. The boy seemed right at home teetering over the edge of a treacherous fall.

Clark shrugged in response to his question. "It's your roof."

Dick moved along the icy roof with a grace most couldn't muster on stable ground. He moved to the edge of the roof and sat down next to Clark. The two sat quietly for a few minutes before Dick decided to break the silence.

"How are you holding up?"

If Clark could kick himself, he would have at that moment. Here he was moping around his friend's house, acting as if he were the only one affected by Bruce's death when his family was only feet below him, mourning as much as he was. He hadn't thought about how he could be imposing on their home, inconveniencing them during their holiday celebration. He'd only thought about himself.

"I'm sorry, Dick," he finally managed to get out. "I don't mean to impose..."

"You're never an imposition, Clark. You know that."

"But after all that's happened..."

Dick looked over at him, meeting his eyes with a very serious expression. "That doesn't change the fact that you're welcome here. We all miss him, and if it makes you feel better to be here, then you're welcome to stay as long as you want."

Despite the morbid cloud hanging over his head, the edges of Clark's mouth turned slightly upwards. Dick never ceased to amaze him. He'd lost so much throughout his life, but Clark had never met a more generous person. He always thought of others before himself. Even at his most difficult times, Dick had always come through for those that needed him.

"Thanks, Dick," Clark replied.

"Anytime."

The two sat in silence, looking out over the fields that surrounded the isolated Manor. The snow fell gently around them, and Clark started to feel better just in the company of the younger man.

"Do you think about him a lot?" Clark asked.

"All the time," Dick answered. "Every time I go down into the cave, I trick myself into believing he's going to jump out from behind one of the stalagmites as if it was a big joke. Smirking like he does every time he tricked us."

Clark smiled, knowing that grin all too well. "He never got sick of one-upping people."

Dick chuckled, and then the two fell into silence again.

"Do you think Batman will fly again?" Clark asked, looking over at Dick.

Dick didn't look back, carefully avoiding eye contact. It was a question he'd asked himself several times, but he'd never been able to answer.

"I don't know," he replied with some hesitation. "I've thought about it, but every time, I keep thinking 'not tonight.' I know Batman is a symbol in this city, and Bruce wouldn't want that to go away. Gotham needs Batman, but to me, Batman was more than a symbol. He was Bruce."

Clark nodded in understanding. "It's your decision, Dick. But I know Bruce trusted you implicitly. If anyone's worthy of carrying on the mantle, it's you."

Dick looked up and smiled at Clark. "Thanks, Clark."

The chill of the January air nipped at Clark's skin, finally making him aware of the cold. He knew if he was feeling it, Dick would be too. He stood, brushing the snow off of his suit.

"I should go," he said, knowing that if he didn't give the young man a reason to go back inside, he wouldn't leave his side.

Dick rose as well. "You don't have to leave. We were just going to sit down to breakfast. You're welcome to join us."

Clark considered that for a few minutes then smiled. "I'd love to."

Clark grabbed Dick under his arms and flew him down to the door of the Manor, and Dick led the way into the massive doors. As he followed the young man through the halls of Wayne Manor, he noticed that nothing had changed since Bruce's death. The house was a living monument to Bruce, but more so, the family that lived inside was his legacy.

He followed Dick into the kitchen, and was met with the surprised faces of Alfred and Tim sitting at the kitchen table. A fresh breakfast of pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon and toast was sprawled out on the table in front of them, but neither had started eating, waiting for Dick to return.

"I found him lurking about outside," Dick said as he took a seat at the table. "I figured we had room for one more."

"Always," Alfred said, rising from the table to retrieve another plate. "It's wonderful to see you again, Mr. Kent."

"You too, Alfred," he said as he sat down next to Dick. "Good to see you too, Tim."

"Hey Clark," the boy said, smiling at him.

Alfred set another place setting in front of Clark, and the four spent the morning swapping stories and laughing. While the idea of a world without Bruce was not something Clark liked, he realized it wasn't going to be as lonely as he thought. Bruce had left behind a wonderful legacy, and Clark was happy to be part of it.


End file.
